


At Your Side

by parttimefemmefatale (writingramblr)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Wolf Rose Tyler, Crossing Parallels, F/F, Gen, Hayley Atwell is the Doctor, Song Lyrics, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5102753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/parttimefemmefatale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[songfic for Stand By You - Rachel Platten]</p><p> </p><p>13 is just revisiting a favorite place when she meets a ghost.</p><p>Or is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Your Side

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunarsilverwolfstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarsilverwolfstar/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Time to Rest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/839259) by [lunarsilverwolfstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarsilverwolfstar/pseuds/lunarsilverwolfstar). 



> because i wanted something semi happy after reading the travesty of time to rest.  
> ouch.
> 
> thanks eli

_Hands, put your empty hands in mine_

_And scars, show me all the scars you hide_

_And hey, if your wings are broken_

_Please take mine so yours can open too_

_Cause I'm gonna stand by you_

_*_

They say the Doctor just needs a hand to hold, and he'll keep running happy forever.

Well companions and seasons change.

The Doctor had changed too.

Now the Doctor was _she._

 

She's never felt more alone.

Saying goodbye to Clara was easy.

Clara was leaving to be with her love, to create a life for herself, outside the 4 walls of the bluest blue box in the universe.

Maybe she'd even create life all her own with Danny.

The Doctor wasn't about to pry or assume.

 

Turning away, she feels a breeze ruffle her newly long hair, and it sends a chill through her.

Clara might have thought she'd saved her, given her a second set of lives, but the Doctor knows better.

She feels her age.

Even if she doesn't nearly look it.

*

_Oh, tears make kaleidoscopes in your eyes_

_And hurt, I know you're hurting, but so am I_

_And love, if your wings are broken_

_Borrow mine 'til yours can open too_

_Cause I'm gonna stand by you_

*

The dimension cannon sat unused. Torchwood had long since closed its doors, preparing for a remodel to become a place haunted by something other than science and death.

Some say a schoolhouse.

Others muse a hospital.

 

Rose smiles sadly to herself.

The Doctor would be proud.

Her Doctor would have been amused.

If he had still been around.

In the last century and a half, Rose has seen their children grow and blossom and start their own family trees, all while from a distance.

 

When the aging of the human Doctor had grown noticeable but she'd stayed the same, she hoped perhaps he'd simply age and then regenerate.

For twenty years she clung to that hope, until the truth finally slapped her in the face.

In the form of grey hair that never came, wrinkles that remained smooth, unblemished skin.

The theory was dismissed as laughable.

But Rose felt it deep in her bones, down to her DNA she'd been changed.

Long after the Doctor had left her, not by choice that time, Rose decided to cause one last bit of mischief.

She broke into the shambles of Torchwood, and stole the dimension cannon.

Who could stop her?

Who would?

Her hand slammed unforgivingly on the yellow circle, and the world dissolved around her.

*

_I'll be your eyes 'til yours can shine_

_I'll be your arms, I'll be your steady satellite_

_And when you can't rise, well, I'll crawl with you on hands and knees._

_I'll stand by you._

*

London, England, Earth.

Always the same place, nearly the same time.

The Doctor knew she wasn’t the only one fond of the little blue planet.

As her nose filled with the scent of pumpkins and cinnamon sticks, she knew it had to be a special time of year.

Not quite Christmas.

That was always a hard time.

Everything was orange.

She glanced down at herself, and shrugged.

Black leather jacket, brown and white checked silk blouse, and navy pencil skirt. It’d have to do.

Her sonic was tucked in her breast pocket, next to her actual left breast.

It was strange, being a woman after being a man for so many centuries, and she was used to getting looks on the street, but now it was from men and women alike.

The streets themselves were very crowded, and as the Doctor let herself be pulled from the TARDIS’s side towards what looked like a fall festival, she was jostled none-too-gently by a strong figure.

“Pardon me.”

She spoke.

Her voice was still unfamiliar but she was warming to it.

A soft and gentle lilt that made her sound aristocratic and an overall soothing tone.

 

“Sorry, I’m just crashing all around. I should look where I’m going.”

 

“Oh god. I’m dead aren’t I? I’ve gone and died and this is hell.”

 

The Doctor normally wasn’t so melodramatic, but the person she’d bumped into looked way too much like a certain pink and yellow human she’d long thought dead.

She hadn’t come to London before 2010, so this couldn’t be her younger self.

“Sorry?”

Rose’s twin apologized again, and the Doctor smiled sadly,

“Of course. You don’t know me.”

There was a belt around Rose’s waist with a familiar silver and yellow button, and the way she was dressed suggested a long journey planned.

Practical boots, military grade trousers, and a no-nonsense grey tank with a navy jacket.

 

In some ways, a lot of ways, they were mirror images of one another.

 

The Doctor’s long brown hair caught a stray breeze, and Rose’s blonde waves danced around her face in the same manner.

“Should I?”

 

The Doctor shook her head,

“No. Just a silly wish of mine.”

*

_Even if we're breaking down, we can find a way to break through_

_Even if we can't find heaven, I'll walk through Hell with you_

_Love, you're not alone, cause I'm gonna stand by you_

_*_

The music of the universe hadn’t sung inside Rose’s head in a long time. Decades past.

Almost a century.  


But she heard it then, clearer than ever before, and it was making her head spin from the rush of it all.

 

She’d bumped into a beautiful woman wandering the streets of London, and normally she’d have simply gone past, and continued enjoying the sight of her home Earth, but she was too on edge to enjoy it.

Why could she hear the TARDIS singing?

Unless it was close by.

 

Could it be abandoned?

 

_Another TARDIS?_

Or something else entirely?

 

The woman was staring at her strangely, as if studying her face.

“Is something wrong?”

 Rose rubbed a hand over her cheek, wondering if there was ash or dust on her from the travel, or the rough landing, but felt nothing.

 

The woman shook her head, before a heartbreakingly sad smile broke over her face, and her brown eyes shimmered with something akin to tears,

“No. Nothing’s wrong. Just timing.”

 

Rose frowned, concerned, and reached out to place a hand on the woman’s arm.

In that split second, many things happened.

The singing reached a crescendo, golden light gleamed out from her eyes, and everyone else around them seemed to vanish.

 

_“Doctor?”_

_*_

_Yeah, you're all I never knew I needed_

_And the heart, sometimes it's unclear why it's beating_

_And love, if your wings are broken_

_Borrow mine 'til yours can open too_

_Cause I'm gonna stand by you_

_*_

“Do you recognize this form?”

The Doctor asked, shocked that Rose had made the connection so quickly.

She couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, and what she was doing in _this_ London was very curious, not to mention completely catastrophic if her Doctor wasn’t close by.

The image of her Tenth self came to mind, and she couldn’t help grinning.

Spiky hair, trainers, long coats, and lots of running.

“No. But I can hear the TARDIS, thanks to Bad Wolf.”

 

The Doctor’s blood chilled, and her hearts skipped a beat.

“What?”

“Yeah.”

Rose’s face looked hard, and for a moment the Doctor would have sworn she looked nearly as old as she felt.

 

“Rose…what’s happened? Why are you here?”

 

The makings of a smile began again on her face,

“Nothings’ wrong in my universe Doctor, don’t worry. I just had to leave, because there was nothing left for me there.”

 

Her voice cracked on the last word, and the Doctor felt a shiver crawl down her spine,

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone’s dead. I’m the last Tyler. How about that? I win.”

The Doctor was in too much shock to register the familiar quote, and she found herself with an armful of sobbing human in seconds.

“Oh my god Rose…I’m so sorry. Is that because of Bad Wolf? Did I do this? I did, didn’t I. I cursed you.”

“Doctor, no. Don’t go blaming yourself. That doesn’t help. I’ve done enough of that for the last fifty years. It’s no one’s fault. You couldn’t have known. I was saving your life, and that was my decision.”

 

Rose pulled back and cupped a hand to the Doctor’s cheek, and she couldn’t help but lean into it, just a little.

“You’re so different now.”

 

The Doctor sniffed,

“New, new, new, new Doctor.”

Rose smiled, blinking away her tears,

“Still mine.”

“Forever.”

Linking hands with Rose felt like coming home.

Together, walking down the streets of London back towards the TARDIS, there was no question.

The Doctor and Rose Tyler were going to have a brand new adventure, and maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t have to end.

*

She’s not sure how to tell Rose, but when the time comes, she’ll have to.

But somehow, in the end, she doesn’t have to.

Because the first time they kiss, there’s more than a spark of chemistry they already knew they had, there’s a zing to it.

Life dances in the golden gleam of Rose’s eyes.

_“I bring life.”_

She once said.

The Doctor cowered before her then.

Now she watches in awe, once again.

From her fingertips, galaxies seem to spring forth, and in her eyes are more than the stars.

One breath heals the Doctor, another lifts her back to her feet.

Anew, the Doctor is reborn.

Not regeneration, but a kind of rebirth that only the power of the Vortex can give.

There’s a golden streak through the warm brown of the Doctor’s hair.

*

**END**


End file.
